‘I’m off my shift in a few minutes. Do you want me to get you some food before I go?’
‘I’m fine,’ repeated Angie.
‘It’ll be your last chance before morning. And the night custody officer is a bit of a grouch.’
Angie forced a smile. ‘Really, I’m fine.’
‘What about some tea?’
Angie nodded at the polystyrene cup on the floor. ‘I’ve still got the one you gave me before.’
‘That was hours ago,’ said the WPC. ‘It’ll be stone cold.’
Angie shrugged. ‘It’ll do.’
The WPC smiled and closed the hatch. Angie opened her right hand and counted the barbiturate capsules. Twenty-four. She put them on the grey blanket, then picked up the polystyrene cup. A brown scum had formed on the tea. She took a sip and grimaced. She didn’t take sugar.
She sat down on the bed, popped one of the tablets on to her tongue, took another sip of tea, flicked her head back and swallowed. One down, twenty-three to go. She sipped the cold tea. It wasn’t so bad.
Ken Swift tossed the T-shirt to Shepherd. It was grey with NYPD on the front. ‘Got this on an exchange visit with the New York SWAT guys,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t mind having it back.’
‘Thanks, sir,’ said Shepherd.
‘Shift’s over,’ said Swift. ‘It’s Ken.’
Shepherd pulled on the T-shirt. The paramedics had taken his shirt when they wheeled away the little girl. They’d stabilised her and put her on a saline drip.
‘Where did you learn to do that throat thing?’ asked Swift.
Shepherd shrugged. ‘Army, first-aid training. I’m just glad I was paying attention that day.’
‘Saved her life,’ said Swift.
‘The way the world is, the mother will probably sue me,’ said Shepherd. ‘I still don’t know if I did the right thing by not pulling my gun.’
‘They only had knives – you couldn’t have shot them. Not without a shit-load of trouble from the civil-liberty groups, and the press would have had a field day.’
‘They were kids, but the way they behaved . . .’
‘Animals,’ said Swift.
‘The one who stabbed the little girl wasn’t more than thirteen. What was he doing with a knife? Why aren’t his parents asking where he is?’
‘They probably don’t care,’ said Swift. ‘Father’s probably run off. Mother’s got no money. Schools are too busy maintaining order to get involved.’
‘Have you got kids?’
‘Three – and no matter what happened to the marriages I was always a father to them. Saw them whenever I could, went to school events, took them on holiday. When there were problems, I nipped them in the bud. I was a good dad, Stu. A shit husband, I’ll put my hands up to that, but I was always there for my kids.’
‘I can’t believe they got away,’ said Shepherd. ‘We were there on the bloody train. I was six feet away. If they hadn’t stabbed the little girl . . .’
‘That’s why they stabbed her. They knew you’d have to stop and help.’
The chief inspector was right: they’d made a calculated decision to knife a child because anyone with humanity would help her rather than give chase. It was the sort of behaviour Shepherd would expect from a professional criminal or a soldier, not from teenagers.
‘By the time we got to Leicester Square they were well gone,’ said Swift. ‘CCTV footage shows them getting the Northern Line to Charing Cross. They left the station, probably walked back to their stamping ground.’
‘So what next?’
‘BTP want to try again in a couple of days. Thursday evening, maybe, or Friday. All we have to do now is find them. With you and the BTP detectives as witnesses, we have a case.’
‘I’m up for it,’ said Shepherd. ‘I want another crack at them.’
Swift slapped him on the back. ‘Job’s yours,’ he said. ‘Now, let’s go get a pint. We’ve earned it.’
Shepherd set his alarm for seven thirty so that he could have breakfast with Liam before he went to school, but he was awake before the alarm went off. He heard Katra get up and go down to the kitchen, and later he heard her getting Liam ready. He grabbed his dressing-gown and went downstairs. Liam was sitting at the kitchen table, eating toast and drinking orange juice.
Katra had a mug of coffee ready for him.
‘What time did you get home, Dad?’ asked Liam.
‘About eleven,’ said Shepherd. ‘I came in to say goodnight but you were asleep. Did you do your homework?’
‘Katra helped me,’ said Liam.
‘It was maths,’ said Katra. ‘I was always good at that.’
‘Thanks,’ said Shepherd. ‘I’m working late all this week, but I’ll be able to do my bit at the weekend.’
‘What was work like yesterday?’ asked Liam.
Shepherd shrugged. ‘Boring office stuff,’ he lied.
‘Why do you have to work at night, then?’
‘There’s office stuff to do all day,’ said Shepherd. He didn’t like lying to his son, but he certainly didn’t want to tell him he’d stuck a knife into a little girl’s windpipe. ‘Did you manage the drive all right?’ he asked Katra.
‘She’s great, Dad,’ said Liam. ‘Better than you.’
‘Thanks, kid.’
‘Come on, Liam, it’s time to go,’ said Katra. She helped Liam on with his blazer and handed him his bag. ‘I’ll cook breakfast for you when I get back,’ she said to Shepherd.
‘That’s okay, I’m fine with coffee,’ said Shepherd, raising his mug.
‘It’s the most important meal of the day,’ said Liam, and grinned.
Katra giggled and they left.
Shepherd went through to the sitting room and waved as they drove off. Then he went upstairs, shaved, climbed into the shower and turned it on cold, gasping as the icy water washed over him.
The doorbell rang as he was rinsing shampoo from his hair. Shepherd swore, grabbed a towel and wrapped it round his waist as he rushed downstairs. It was Kathy Gift. He’d forgotten she’d said she’d be round on Wednesday morning. He wanted to ask her to reschedule but he knew that if he avoided her she’d tell Hargrove. All he had to do was sit down and talk to her. He could do that. And he could show her he was on an even keel, that all was well with the world. He spent half of his undercover life pretending to be something he wasn’t.
‘I seem to be making a habit of getting you out of the shower,’ she said.
‘It isn’t even eight yet,’ he said.
‘The early bird,’ she said. ‘Is someone with you? Is this a bad time?’
Shepherd smiled ruefully. ‘No. I’m alone.’
‘Liam’s still with his grandparents?’
‘He moved back in at the weekend but he’s just gone to school.’
‘So you solved your au pair problem?’
‘Looks that way,’ he said. He held the door open for her. ‘I’ve just had coffee, but if you want one, you know where everything is.’
He hurried upstairs, dried himself and put on a grey pullover and black jeans. When he got back downstairs she was studying the framed photographs in the bookcase. There were two mugs of coffee on the table by the sofa.
‘He’s a good-looking boy,’ she said, peering at a snap of Liam in his school uniform.
‘Takes after his mum,’ said Shepherd.
Gift smiled at a silver-framed photograph of Shepherd and Sue standing in the garden, their backs to the house. Liam had taken it the previous year on Sue’s birthday and he’d kept them smiling at the camera for almost two minutes before he eventually pressed the shutter. Sue had burst out laughing just as Liam took the picture and her eyes were full of life, full of joy. It felt like a lifetime ago.
Gift sat down in an armchair and opened her briefcase. She took out a clipboard with a ballpoint pen.
‘No tape-recorder?’ he asked.
